Antonio didn’t want to start a war, but he had orders to the contrary.

If this was to be the last meal he ever crafted – and, while he had ultimately been forced to hope against hope that it would not be if only he did as instructed, he was nonetheless not deluding himself into denying the more obvious outcome – it would be his best.

The road had been metalled, once.

Dearest sister,

I do have so much to tell you!

When Aorang had dreamt of becoming a merchant captain, sailing up and down the Sea of Serpents or wherever else he wished to go, he had not considered the arithmetic.

It was a standard summoning circle, the kind first year demonologists learnt to draw by heart.

‘My life to the Host. My loyalty to its War Leader!’ he declared.

Citizens, our constitution has been hijacked! It has been stolen from us and we must take it back – by whatever means are necessary. For revolution can come in many forms. It can be slow or fast, bloodless or bloody, but it must be total.

An extract from the writings of Musketeer Nicolas Haxo

‘Sir,’ I said in my garbled Savarian, ‘I think we are soon to be dead.’